


A study in Amity (a Sherlock fanfic)

by captainofthegeeks



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Pining John, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-01-27 22:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainofthegeeks/pseuds/captainofthegeeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary has been shot and it turns out she has herself to blame. Sherlock and John have to investigate the case while taking care of John and Mary's newborn baby, Paige.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coma

**Author's Note:**

> I want you to know that English isn't my first language, so please don't blame me for making mistakes.

‘John, listen to me. Everything will be all right.’ I say even though I know it isn’t true, it won’t be all right. But I hope it will calm him.

‘No, it won’t! It will NOT be all right!’ John says angry. ‘Sherlock, make up your mind! I always thought you were the clever one. My wife and child are going to die.’

I lay my hands on his shoulders and push him in the nearest chair. I look at him for a moment, he is really nervous, of course. Don’t get sentimental Sherlock, you’re a sociopath after all. What would any other person do in this kind of situation? He would probably make some tea and comfort his best friend as much as he can. OK, tea. It will definitely taste gross since we’re in a hospital so water will be the best option.

‘Thanks.’ He says after I give him the plastic cup, of course it doesn’t sound convincing.

I get a stool and sit next to him ready to wait hour after hour, but Molly comes in surprisingly quick.

‘John.’ She says. ‘I have good quite good news, Mary and your daughter both made it.’

John jumps up from his chair. ‘You mean the bullet didn’t cause any damage. That’s incredible.’

‘Actually, that’s not true. The bullet did cause damage but you’ll see.’ Molly says sceptical, I can see she’s hiding something. John shouldn’t be as happy as he is now.

‘Which room?’ I ask full of curiosity.

‘Oh, yes of course. 156. Third door on your left,’ 

Indeed, many things won't be all right. Mary is in the hospital after someone shot her while walking outside with Paige, John and Mary's newborn daughter. That's what Mycroft eventually told me after I almost broke his arm. John and I are about to walk into her room for the first time.

'John, you know this can be confronting?' I says right before he grabs the doorknob. I want to say something else to comfort him but I am speechless because there is nothing to say. That's one thing I've learned from John after living with him for years, sometimes you just have to shut up.

'I do.' He says vaguely and pushes the door open.

I follow him into the room and want to be sure I walk straight behind him. After a few moments he faints, just as I expected. From my position I can catch him by sticking my hands into his armpits and bend to lay him on the ground.

'Interesting. I thought he could handle this, he has been an army doctor after all.' Says a voice above me. It's Mycroft, around his neck hangs a stethoscope while he smiles triumphantly. It's not a surprise he led the operation, he has always been interested in shot wounds.

'You really don't know anything about human nature, do you? When he was in war he saw strangers wounded and dying and it didn't do him anything. But he just saw the woman he loves in a coma, of course he can't handle that!' I say angrily.

'I agree.' John says, who apparently just woke up. He puts his arm around my neck and I help him up.

Mary is connected to a lot of machines and is completely swollen. She was shot at the same spot I was shot by Mary herself so the shutter must be a sniper. Her hands and elbows are scratched so she fell backwards knowing that this was the way she would lost the least blood. If she fell forewords she'd have no scratches on her elbows. It is most likely that the shutter was in front of her, that would set the perfect fall. But there is a chance she was shut from the back and that she fell backwards because there was pram in her way. Either way she didn't see the shutter.

Mycroft has walked to the glass crib next to the bed and the baby inside it suddenly begins to cry. Finally, for once Mycroft doesn't know what to do. I will definitely keep this one in mind.

The baby, Paige, keeps crying but John doesn't do anything, he just stands there and keeps staring at his wife. I walk to the crib en gently take the baby out. Her body is as big as my hands, she is so fragile. I hold her up and look at her for a second. But the screaming irritates me so I turn around to lay it on top of Mary. I've read somewhere that baby's calm down simply by touching their mother. But what if the respective mother is in coma? I look around and see Molly standing in the doorpost, she has a little smile around her lips but her eyes are concerned. She points at me and taps on her shoulder. I hold the baby to my chest and lay her head on my shoulder. She immediately stops crying and closes her eyes. Her legs and arms are tugged in and she allows me to lay one hand underneath her and one hand on her back.

'John, are you all right?' I ask.

John turns around, his eyes are red and swollen. I can't take this anymore.

'Maybe it's better if we go?' Mycroft says.

'I'd better stay here.' I can hear the crackle in John's voice. 'Sherlock, will you please take care of Paige?'

If it wasn't for John I wouldn't do it. But I understand he can't take care of a baby while his wife's in coma. That and I think I like this little human on my shoulder. So I nod.

'Thanks.' Even though he tries to stay big a tear escapes from his eye.

 

God bless Mrs Hudson and Molly, who took a few days off to help me take care of Paige. She initially said she only was going to learn me how to change diapers and to feed John's daughter. But I'm such a fool in all those thing she practically lives at Baker street and even stays here at night. Paige sleeps in my room next to my bed and whenever she cries I take her on my chest and walk around the room. Although my hands are burning to investigate Mary's case, that's practically everything I do all day, just enjoying this little miracle John and Mary brought to life. And whenever she wets her diaper Molly or Mrs Hudson sprints to me and changes it. John texts me a lot but for some insane reasons he tells me to stay away. 

The door bell rings while I'm playing the violin while Paige is sleeping on my lap. A single ring, to long to be a client. I recognize the footsteps out of thousands, it's John, Mrs Hudson must have let him in. He looks horrible, like he hasn't slept in days. And I can tell by the folding on his jumper that's the truth.

'Hello.' He says absent-minded. 

'How's Mary?' I ask, I didn't even had to remind me to ask it because I'm seriously concerned. 

'She's still in coma but everything is under control. The nurses send me home to relax a little so I came here. I don't want to be at my home, Sherlock, it's to quite.' He says and I'm quite shocked by the confession. John usually was an emotionally strong person, but now, he's just broken. 

'Are you all right?' 

'Yes, yes of course. This is about Mary now.' He's was still standing in the door post and walks over to his chair. 

'You can sleep in my bed if you want.' I offer and I nod to the couch where Molly is sleeping on, she hasn't slept last night. 'The couch is taken.'

First he looks quite surprised but then he smiles. 'I'd love to. But can I first hold my little girl?'

He sits down as I place the sleeping Paige on his lap, his eyes start to twinkle.

'Thank you.' He says after a while. 

For what? For taking care of his baby while his wife is in a coma? For saving his life multiple times? For killing Magnussen? For reuniting him and his wife?

'All of that.' John says without a direct reason. 'I can see you thinking. I thank you for all of that.'

'Ah, you're starting to get rather good at it.' I joke. 

At that moment Paige wakes up and reaches out for her father. She grasp his finger and puts it in her mouth. It's heartbreaking to see, but I have to control my feelings. I'm a sociopath after all.

'You need some sleep. You can wear one of my shirts ' I say.

'You're right.' John passes Paige over to me and disappears into my room. 

A minute later he comes back with a shirt in his hands. 'Sherlock, what's this? This is my shirt in your closet.'

'Perhaps you have forgotten it one day and I didn't mind to return it.' False, it smells like you and I've stolen it so I can sniff it, would the best answer. 

'Right.' He says and returns to my room and later to the bathroom. 

After an hour I can't control myself anymore en sneak into the room John's sleeping in with Paige on my shoulder. That's definitely the place she's the quietest. John's wearing one of my shirts instead of his own shirt. I realize he has woken up when I want to lay Paige in her crib. He smiles and turns so he is lying on his back. I get the hint and lay her on his chest, she immediately tucks in her arms and legs and falls asleep. I don't want to disturb this beautiful moment so I sneak away. 

 

At night I'm facing a problem; John is still sleeping in my bed and Molly on the couch so I have to sleep on the ground or in the chairs. I decide to go for the chairs which cause the less back pain. That way I can take care of Paige, even though I don't know how to change a diaper, but I'll try. Molly has took care of her all day long. I shove John's chair to my chair to create some kind of bed and head to my room, John's room now, to get my pajama. Although I'm doing my best to be silent I can hear John wake up.

'Sherlock, is that you?' he whispers.

'Yes.'

'Are you going to sleep?' I can hear from the dark. 

I hum, 'In my chair.' I say a bit ashamed. 

'Come here than.' I hear the sheets crisping as John moves to the and of the bed. 

I get in and it doesn't even feel weird when I fall asleep.

 

I have to say I kind of enjoyed sleeping next to John, but John clearly didn't. Not that I supposed we would go spooning or anything but the hadn't looked comfortable. Not at all, he has been sweating and murmuring all night. I made sure I was out of bed before John even opened his eyes. I took a long shower and now I'm feeding Paige, I always thought taking care of a baby is something horrible to do but it isn't, I am quite enjoying it. That and you're never bored.

I hear something moving in the living room while I'm walking through the kitchen with Paige in my arms. 'Slept well?'

'Not that bad.' Says a different voice than I was expecting, it's Molly. She walks into the kitchen and starts making coffee in here colorful pajamas's. 'Want some?'

'No, I need to think as bright as possible today at the crime scene.' I say while reading the newspapers.

'Crime scene? Which one?'

'Mary's one of course. I'm dying to catch the shutter.' It's a miracle I've been occupied all these days. So I'm glad I've successfully convinced Lestrade to keep the crime scene unattached. It's been a few days and the weather must have destroyed most of the evidence but it's worth trying.

'Are you John taking with you?' Molly asks while sipping her coffee.

'Yes, of course.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, why not?' It's probably something social I don't get. Yet, I'm starting to get better at it.

'Well, he's going through a hard time and taking him to the place his wife was shut probably isn't going to help him. Although I'd like to see the shutter in jail.' She explains.

'True.' I've never thought about that but she has a point. But I must visit it or the case would be lost, the police always oversees the important stuff. Should I consider taking Molly with me? She has proven her usefulness before. That and I haven't really given her the attention she deserves after these days. 'Would you like to go with me?'

She looks quite surprised. 'Me? Yes, I'd like to, but how are we going to explain that to John? We kind of shut him out.'

'Don't worry, I heard everything.' A third voice says, John apparently woke up and came into the kitchen without me noticing it.

'We're sorry, I hope you understand.' Molly says.

'Not a problem, I was planning to go to the Mary with Paige anyway.'

I pretend I didn't notice he's lying and pass Paige over to him before I say: 'Good, Molly, we'll leave in five minutes.'

'Right.' She says and sprints to the bathroom.

It's just John, me and Paige sleeping in Johns arms now, not that we're never together but it surely feels different now we've slept next to each other. He is still standing in my shirt and his pants, (Thank god Molly didn't notice because it would bring some awkward situations) and he is just looking at me. I'm starting to get uncomfortable so decide to break the ice.

'You're still having nightmares, don't you?' OK, this is the worst question I could have chosen and maybe John decided to forget the night but I'm just to curious.

John seems just as overwhelmed by the question as me. 'Uhm... Yes, ever since your fall.'

I didn't see that one coming, I thought they left after he met Mary and became a happy man.

'Not about the army or anything, just life, about Mary at the moment. About every little thing you can imagine, you know?' Why is he telling this to me?

I don't understand what he's trying to say but I nod hoping he will tell me more.

'I wasn't sweating because of you, if that's what you want to know.' He says with a smile.

Am I such an open book lately or has John really become good at deducing? I don't know how to respond so I smile and walk over to my coat. 'Molly, plans have changed, we're going right now.'

Molly quickly walks in, fully clothed and a big messy bun on her head, I doesn't suit her but I won't say anything. 'Right.'

After the cab dropped us at the main entrance of a rainy Hyde Park, Molly and I have to walk a long road before we arrive completely wet at the crime scene. After a few moments of walking I get the feeling we're being followed, but I don't tell Molly, she probably doesn't know how to respond. She has been trying to impress me the whole time with things she has been reading and I was interested for a while but I'm bored quickly so I made her shut up. Not in the nicest way but it worked and now we're walking in silence.  
'Tell me everything you already know.' I command Lestrade when we finally arrive.

'Mary was sitting on this bench when she was shot from behind from a small distance. There was gunpowder residue all over her back. The witnesses heard shooting noises and they saw her bleeding so an young man rang us.' Lestrade explains.

'Are you sure she was sitting right here?' I say as I walk around the wooden bench. This can't be true. According to my deductions earlier on she must have fell backwards. It doesn't make sense.

'Of course I am, she was sitting on the end of it with the pram next to her like this, facing the path in a oblique way.' Lestrade says while he draws a square in the gravel with his foot.

'I hope her clothes aren't washed yet so I can retrace if she really sat here. There's pigeon poop on the seat from at least a week old so there must be some of it on there jeans too. She had fresh scratches on her elbows so she must have fallen backwards but there is no way her elbows would hit anything in this sitting position. So she must have fallen before the accident. The question is why she had placed her pram this way. Why didn't she turned it around so she could see the baby? She came from that way.' I say pointing to my left. 'Because whenever you sit on a public bench you sit on the end. Don't know why but believe me. The pram is facing the way she came from, naturally you would face it the other way, the way you are going to. So she did it on purpose, it wasn't just a stop while walking with a baby. She was ready to leave whenever something happened. She was ready for it so it was supposed to happen. Supposed to happen at this exact place, at this bench. Now the real question is why and why here?'

I hear someone gasping from behind when I'm finished and when I turn around I see a familiar face in the distance but he's gone before I even can approach him.

'So you're saying she wasn't here by accident.' Molly says.

'No, she wasn't. She was going to meet someone.' I sigh, I thought that was pretty clear by now. That's the thing with working with John, he doesn't understand anything but more than the average human being.

'I'll make sure you get the clothes and I think you can take care of the scratches yourself.' Lestrade says. 'And how is John doing by the way?' 

'It could have been better.' Molly says. I couldn't have said it better myself.

'Let's go home I'm cold.' Greg says as his hands stroke his upper arms.

'Sherlock, by the ways.' Molly turns to me. 'I think I'm going to my own house again.'

I'm secretly pleased by the thought of having the flat for me and Paige alone, and John if he wants.

'Wait a minute, are you staying in Sherlock's flat?' Greg looks at us with a gaze. 'Sherlock, I always thought you were.... You know... Ah, never mind.'

'You didn't go to the hospital, did you?' I ask John when I'm home and we're sitting on the couch watching telly, he is completely concentrated. In a way it feels just like before.

'Huh... What? What did you say.' He says after a few minutes.

'That you didn't go to the hospital.' I repeat.

'How the hell did you know?' He blushes.

'You are the only person who dares to show his appreciation to my work as detective. And before you left you dropped Paige at Mrs Hudson and forgot to pick her up when you came back.' I say smiling. Why does this make me feel happy? Is it the fact that John forgets his own child or the fact that John secretly followed me while I was on a case with Molly?

John burst out in laughter. 'I shouldn't have tried anyway.'

'You could just ask it, I'll always choose you over Molly, you know.' I say with a soft voice.

'Awh, Sherlock, sometimes you're so adorable.' He leans over to me and hugs me tight.


	2. Chapter 2: To break down

'Are you going with me?' John asks me when he is about to be going to Mary.

'Why?' I know why, he needs moral support, but I just want to hear him say it.

'You know... Just... You don't have to. You can stay here and do whatever you were doing.' he nods to my experiment. I'm trying to find out where the dirt in Mary's elbow  
scratches comes from.

'Just kidding. I'll go.' I've been trying to make jokes lately but Johns face tells me I'm not very good at it.

'Right.' he says. 'They are trying to wake her up.'

After Mary was shot Mycroft had to put her in an artificial coma so she could recover in rest.

'We must take Paige with us by the way.'

In the cab she cries her lungs out on John's lap and I give him my we-both-know-whats-going-on-here look but he smiles and starts to lull her. But she keeps crying.

'OK, you win.' John says and passes Paige over to me. 'Damn, sooner or later she is going to think you're the father.' He jokes but his grin fades away when she really is quiet.

'Sorry.' I mouth.

'No, no. It's okay.' John says, who apparently took it as some sort of excuse.

Suddenly he bends over to the cabby and says: 'Can you first make a stop at 37 Broadly St?'

'Your house?' I think out loud.

'Yes, my house.' There's apparently no need to explain so we sit in silence.

Once arrived at John's house we pay for now and John tells the driver we'll be back in five minutes. I've never been at John's before, not even while planning the wedding, everything happened at Baker St. I've always been keen on not going there because I knew I couldn't have handled it, seeing John live his life without me. It's kind of selfish though. John never brought me here either, again, everything happened at Baker St. But now he does, he is going to show me his house which is kind of a big deal for me, so I go inside.

I'm quite surprised when I get in, the furniture in the living room is in the same position as at Baker St. I haven't puzzled out what to think of that, yet. But later I will, I will save this place in my mind palace whether I want it or not. It's too heavily loaded with emotion to delete. I already regret my choice to get in here, but I tell myself that I can handle it at least ten minutes.

After the furniture placement everything has a different style, Mary's style. A lot of light and a lot of colors.

'So, what you do think?' John ask all sudden.

I'm trying hard to find an intelligent answer that would suit the best but I decide to say: 'It's nice.'

'Good, let's go upstairs.'

John leads me upstairs to the bedroom where he sits on the edge of a big king-size bed and where he lays Paige down. I just stand in the door post since the unpleasant feeling is getting stronger.

'Why are we here?' I ask.

John swallows and shuffles a little, he's struggling too. 'Can we, Paige and I, come live with you for a few weeks?'

Suddenly the unpleasant feeling disappears and makes room for a lot of love. Love for John Hamish Watson. Practically everyone seemed to know that I love John, everyone except John and myself. I already knew that I cared a lot about him, and I've missed him very much since I don't see him that often. That are the only emotions I've figured out yet. 'Everything is going to be like it was before.' I think for a moment, but it isn't. Mary is still in a coma and John loves her. If she dies John's heart would break and that is the one thing I don't want to happen.

I smile. 'Sure, you can stay as long as you like.'

'Thank you.' John says and he smiles but a teardrop escapes, and another, and another. I can tell he isn't crying out of happiness.

Normally I would prevent him from anything that can hurt him, but now I can't. I can't put my poker face on and make a joke now. I can't prevent him from the pain, so I do what I'd like John to do if I was in a similar situation. I go sit next to him, hold one arm on his back and lead his head with the other to my shoulder. He starts sobbing and I pet his head and back.

He tilts his head so he can look me in the face. 'This is really embarrassing.'

I just shake my head and keep petting his back. A few moments after John has laid his head against my chest, we start sliding of the bed and I grab him tight as we bump to the ground. John almost giggles, but very soon he is crying again, with loud moans.

Suddenly he crawls up and I'm afraid he has changed his mind because I rather liked it. But he's just looking for a more comfortable position so he lays his head on my lap and his whole body stretched out on the floor. But he's apparently not comfortable enough so he turns around, now facing my belly. Comfortable enough, he continuous crying with his head buried in my shirt now and me petting his head again. That is the moment I realize I'm not as asexual as I always thought, but happily I'm able to keep it unnoticed.  
After a short ten minutes (the cab must be gone by now) the crying has ebbed away and John looks me right into the eyes. 'Not a single word!'

 

'I've read it' John says out of nowhere when we're sitting in our chairs. Just like a long time ago.

'You read... what?' I ask.

'Amelia Robin Gabriëlla Abagnale.'

'Hm.. sounds familiar. Who is it? Ahh... I get it AGRA.' My brain is getting slow. we should investigate Mary's case faster.

'What do you mean "sounds familiar"?'

'Amelia Abagnale, Frank Abagnale jr's daughter.' I answer, the Swedish government offered me his case once. Although it wasn't really offering, more begging. I solved everything in 2 days and went home.

'I got that so far yeah. But am I supposed to know who he is?'

'You should, in fact. Top criminal. But don't worry, he's turned his life around.' I don't mention I solved his case by the finding out a snow flock had fallen in the printing machine he used for printing his false identities.

I can practically see the realization drop in Johns eyes.

'What the hell am I supposed to do now?'

'Nothing, she is brain dead. There is nothing to do.' I say. Rude, but the truth.

'SHE IS NOT BRAIN DEAD!' John yells at me.

'Not yet, she will be if she slips off any further.' I admit I always want to have the last word.

John stands and walks angrily out of the living room.

'Why did you read it any way?' I yell.

John's head peeks from the door post, he is crying again. 'Because if I have to end her life... If I'll be able to... I want her formal friends and family to be able to say goodbye.'  
I shrug.

'I shouldn't have done it.' He adds.

'Why? You already knew it, didn't you? You have been wondering.'

'Yes. But it's worse.' He sobs.

'What? Murder?' Stay businesslike. 

'Yes, but I thought she stopped murdering. She still is an assassin. She didn't meet me by accident. She married me to get information about you. I feel so stupid for loving her.' John says while sobbing hard. 

Mary's case is solved. The shutter must have considered her threatening. He must have access to secret files, including the ones from the FBI. It's so obvious, I thought too far away all the time.

John is still staring at me in the most venerable way you can imaging. I must help him. 'Sit down.' I command.

He sits.

'You must be very angry at her.'

He nods.

'But I can tell you, she didn't marry you for that reason. She could just be a friend, a neighbor, your psychiatrist, but she choose to be your wife. She even carried your baby. If she was pure spying she would have cut off the pregnancy before you or I could find out. Maybe she didn't meet you under the right circumstances, but she has grown to love you, and you know that.'

I get up and get my coat.

'How do you always do that?' John asks.

'Do what?' Why can't people just be direct, when I'm in a hurry. 

'Being right.' 

Whit that in my mind I run downstairs and hail a cab. 

 

'YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!' I yell while I storm into Mycroft's office. 

'Well, well brother mine. Don't get too vulgar, you're implying to our own mother.' Mycroft sits triumphantly on his desk.

I sprint over to him, push him backwards and pin his hands on the desk he is lying on. 'YOU PIECE OF SHIT!' I scream in his face. 

'She was a threat.' He says calmly. 

'JOHN IS RUINED!'

'Please calm down, Sherlock. She isn't going to die.' Mycroft says, oddly cold. 

'Explain.' I back off, allowing him to get up. 

'We weren't planning to kill her. Just keep her in a artificial coma for undetermined time. I suppose you've got the fact that she still is a spy. She got hold of extremely secret information, which if it ended up in the wrong hands, it would mean the end of the kingdom. They are really going to wake her up within a few days. It's essential she doesn't remember what happened before my men shot her. I admit it could have been less dramatic.' 

A wave of happiness overcomes me, I run out. 

 

When I get home John isn't in the living room or the kitchen, instead he is in my bed. Mrs Hudson rent his old bedroom to someone else, not expecting John to move back in. On first eye he is sleeping but the open curtains tell me he isn't. He is crying. 

'Do you want me to do something for you?' I touch his shoulder to let him know I'm here. 

He turns his head to me, his eyes are red and swollen, it's horrible to look at. 

'She isn't going to die, Mycroft's promised me.' 

John looks confused at me, and he has reason to and I expect him to fire all sorts of questions on me. Instead he gets up until he sits straight and spreads his arms. 'You look horrified.' 

I sit on the edge of the bed and give in for the hug. Neither of us pulls away and we keep holding on to each other. I kick out my shoes lay us down on our sides, still holding on. John lays with his head on my upper arm and has his face pressed in my rib cage. He remains crying and I swing a leg over him and tug his between mine. I hope it will give him the feeling he is safe. 

'Sociopath, sure.' John giggles into my chest.


	3. Chapter 3: To build

*John's POV* 

OK, this is definitely not something flatmates do. Flatmates don't cuddle each other to sleep. But very good friends do when one of them is sad, right? No they don't. 

When I wake up by the sound of Paige crying I'm lying on my stomach with Sherlock sprawled over my back, my forehead touching his chin. I don't want to leave Sherlock and his warmth, but there's no one in the flat, except me and Sherlock, to take a look. I take a deep breath and push myself up onto my elbows, causing Sherlock's arm to fall off.

'What time?' Sherlock purrs in my ear.

It takes a moment before my eyes are costumed to the light of the night clock. 'Quarter past three.'

'I'll take care of that.' Sherlock's stretches out the long leg that has been lying on the small of my back all the time. His toes barely reach the cradle, but he manages to rock it back and forth. The crying doesn't stop.

'She needs food Sherlock.' I laugh. 

'Really? At this hour?' At first I think he is kidding but he look genuinely surprised.

'Yes, Sherlock, even at this hour. That's the thing about children, they are, er... sweet, but they can be a pain in the arse sometimes. OK, I am willing to go on this quest all the way to the kitchen. But on one condition... I'll be taking the blanket with me on my journey.' I steel the blanket, wrap it around me and walk dramatically out of the room. 

When I return from my adventure, Sherlock is lying on his stomach while holding Paige hands, who's lying on his pillow. Cute. I crawl over to him and hand him the bottle of milk. 'Why?' 

'Why what?' In his voice I recognize the tone he uses when he's trying to sound stupid, but fails. 

'You know bloody well what I'm talking about. I know you longer than today, remember.' 

His only respond is a hum. 

'I'm talking about the fact that you keep comforting me.' When said out loud, it doesn't sound like a problem at all. But this is Sherlock, Sherlock doesn't comfort people. 

'You are going through a hard time.'

That hits me, right in the heart. Sherlock has never been very compassionative with others, it makes me feel special. Of course I already knew Sherlock does have a heart, he even sacrificed himself, by killing Magnussen, so Mary and I could live our life safe. But this touches me especially since the whole shooting thing was a combination of adrenaline and anger. Yes, he did it all for Mary and me, but this is different. This is, knowing Sherlock, all very well considered. 'Thanks.' Is all I say. 

It's too late at night to have this conversation, for now I just want to sleep. I get under the blanket and turn away from Sherlock. I feel myself sinking further into the matres as Sherlock gets out and tucks Paige in in her cradle. But instead of coming back he walks out of the room. No, no, this isn't how it is supposed to be. He is supposed to come back under the quilt en warm me with his presence. The fact that I feel alone and cold without him bothers me, I shouldn't feel that way. I should be disturbed by the fact that Sherlock actually cuddled with me. Even worse, I shouldn't be thinking about it at all, I should be worrying about my wife. My lying wife who is in a coma. 

Thank god, Sherlock bust in with my laptop and a cup of tea and gets on the bed. He is sitting upright with his back against the wall, hasty tapping on the keyboard. Presumably working on a case, Mary's case. I turn around so I'm facing Sherlock, push myself up and place my head in my hand. Oh god, this man is absolutely stunning. I often have to remind myself he doesn't act like this to any other person. I'm the only one who truly knows him and it's hard to admit but it's even the other way around. He is the only one who truly knows me, and after these few days I realize how much I've missed living here at 221B Bakerstreet. 

'Any progressions?' I ask. 

'Hmm?.' 

'The case?'

'Oh, yes. Solved.' He says vaguely, sipping on his tea. 

'Really? And there was no reason to tell me that?' I say a little to hard, but why would he keep that from me? 

'No.' He pauses and thinks for a moment. 'There is a reason not to tell you that.'

'Well, you did just tell me. So, care to explain?' 

'Solving it was not that big of a deal. It's was the government, she was threatening. It went like this. She was waiting on the bench for her client. The sand in the scratches on her elbows, which I also found on her clothes and in the grip pattern on the wheels of Paige's pram, is from the hills in Cotswolds. There also was chewing gum in her hair. It is most likely she had a fight here in London, since the sediment from the Thames is from Cotswolds. It doesn't matter where she had the fight, but right after she phoned someone, Lestrade is tracing the number, she wanted to meet him right away. So it was urgent. She went to the park, where she was going to meet him. But someone from the government shot her. Mycroft claims they didn't intend to kill her, only to "keep her in a artificial coma for undetermined amount of time." The information she got hold of was probably so secret she had to be put in a coma so she won't remember it afterwards.' Sherlock rattles.

'Hang on a minute, You're saying Paige was there when Mary was fighting. Holy Fuck! What if something happened? What if Paige got injured, that Mary was fighting was her own fucking problem but Paige?' I almost shout. 

'Just go to sleep, John. It's a quarter to four, ' 

'You're right.' On purpose, I let myself fall face forewards into the pillow, trying to lie as close to Sherlock as possible. 

My mind wants me to sleep like this but something inside me wants to cuddle Sherlock again. After a short ten minutes I give in with the feeling inside of me. I swing one arm around Sherlock waist, and hope that it looks like I'm asleep and that this is done in an unconscious state. Either way, he strokes my hand until I fall asleep. 

 

I wake up in the exact same position I woke up in tonight, Sherlock's arm and leg spread over me. In his unconscious state he fidgets on my ear and I giggle. Apparently a little too hard because Sherlock immediately pulls his hand away and apologizes in a low voice. 

'Morning. It's okay.' It was nice. 

'What are you going to do today?' Is Sherlock seriously chatting? 

'Nothing planned. What 'bout you?' 

'Nothing.'

There's a silence. 'OK, spit it out, something is bothering you.' I say.

'What?' 

'Something is bothering you, you just chatted with me. Chatted.' With the last word I imitate Sherlock's 'disgusting face'. 

'I thought maybe we could...' he hesitates. 'I thought you might need some distraction.'

I get it, he wants to go somewhere and wants me to come with him. 'Where do you want to go?'

Sherlock eyes lit up and a bright smile appears. 'There's this Body World exhibition in town. The one with real skinned body's.' 

'All right, let's get ready.' 

'John, look at this.' Sherlock says enthusiastically.

'I'm standing right next to you, you know that. I'm already looking.'

'Yes, but look at this.' He reaches out until his fingers almost touch the head of the body we're looking at. 'The dura mater is still visible. Interesting.'

Like a child in a candy store, Sherlock has been hopping from corpse to corpse, dragging me along. Not that I mind, I love seeing him like this, all excited and fascinated. An unsuspecting passerby would probably think we are a happy couple on our trip to London. But we aren't. I am waiting to be 'kidnapped' by Mycroft any moment, only to tell me personally what Sherlock has allready told me. He is going to tell me they are going to wake Mary up today or possibly tomorrow. Sherlock didn't tell me Mycroft was and is involved, but I just know. Hopefully he will wait till we're home and let Sherlock be.

My thoughts are interrupted. 'John?'

'Yes?'

'You don't mind, right?'

'Mind what?'

'Me dragging you to a exhibition I want to see.' He looks vulnerable and honest, not particularly his usual look.

'No of course not, you always do. It's nothing new. I like all this stuff too, by the way.' I vaguely gesture to the body we're looking at.

I can practically see Sherlock entering his mind palace, he closes his eyes and his eyebrows draw together, causing deep wrinkles between them. I've got no idea how long he will be there, it can be just a minute or an hour. I place my hands on his shoulders, wanting to guide him to the nearest bench but he opens his eyes again and inhales deep. I apologize and pull my hands away.

'It's OK. Let's go and eat something in the adjacent restaurant.' Is he saying he actually wants to eat? What about the transport thing? This is a good sign, Sherlock is actually hungry, or at least he is taking proper care of himself.

'We need to talk about this whole situation.' I say fast forward when we're seated at a table to the wall and our orders have been taken. The restaurant is designed in an odd way, everything is as white as possible except the tables, the chairs and the wall decoration. Those are wooden, like it once was a fancy bar but the owner was forced to make it a restaurant and put too many tables in there. Not particularly nice for the eye.

'I agree.'

I don't know which problem I have to point out first, Sherlock's unusual behaviour including the cuddling or Mary and her intentions. I go for the latter. 'Mary.'

'Yes, Mary. Interesting. We know she spies on us but the question is for who? Maybe Moriarty, even though I have seen him shooting his own brains out, we have to keep the option there. Mary got hold of extremely sensitive information, although Mycroft like to exaggerate. We have to find out if that information has anything to do with you and me.'

'Sherlock.' I interrupt. 'I'm not talking about that sort of stuff. I'm talking about what I have to do, as her husband and the father of her child.'

He looks confused. 'Enlighten me.'

'Sorry, you may be not the best person to ask advise from on social matters but I trust you. So here's the thing, I'd barely forgiven her she shot you before the next issue popped up. This is to much, even for me, the adrenaline junk.' I laugh a little to remove the tension from what I've said. 'And to think I don't even know if she will wake up.'

'Can't you give her another chance?' Sherlock probably has this sentence filed as "appropriate answers to give to one when one's in a fight with one's significant other" or anything like that. I can't blame him for that though, I wouldn't know how to answer either.

'No, I has taken me months the first time and then I was somehow convinced she still loved me. Now I know love wasn't the incentive.'

'Remember two days ago? You were crying. It was because you love her and you didn't want her to die.' Our eyes lock and hang on there for a few seconds.

'That's the point. At least it's a part of it. I don't know what to feel. Do I have to feel sad, scared, angry, betrayed?' Only when I lick my lips I realize I'm crying again. In a restaurant, god damn. What has happened to me? I grab the menu card and hide myself from the public. Sherlock hands me a napkin, which I use to dap my cheeks and blow my nose as quiet as possible. I'm doing my best to stop the tears from flowing, but it's no use, there's no going back. To make things worse, the waitress arrives and gives me an odd look as she serves us our food.

'Are you all right?' Sherlock asks as soon as she is gone, eyes full pity.

You can't fool Sherlock with this sort of things, he'll see through everything. 'Uhm... Not particularly.' My voice cracks, which only strengthens my point.

'Let's go home then.' Sherlock suggest. Oh god, I love this man, I want to hug this man, I could even kiss this man.


End file.
